


American Pie

by reigningqueenofwords



Series: What Happened? [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 16:55:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17227802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reigningqueenofwords/pseuds/reigningqueenofwords





	American Pie

You had no idea how long you had stood there like that- in John’s arms. It felt like seconds, and eternity all in one. You also knew you didn’t want it to stop. It was comforting, and peaceful. Almost like home.  Eventually, you two moved to the living room. You quickly picked up the pictures and set them on John’s bag. You told him this way he could take his time looking at them. “The non-child friendly DVDs are up top. I had to move them when I came home to Cheyenne watching _Saw_. She thought it was a movie about puzzles. I told her she was half right, but she had to wait a few years to watch that.” You chuckled. Thankfully, she had only made it a few minutes into the movie. 

He shook his head and laughed. Walking to where she pointed out, he raised his eyebrows at her. “You don’t seem to have a favorite genre, do you?” He asked, noting the various titles.

You were in the middle of serving his pizza when you looked up. “ _Mainly_ horror. I’m a sucker for them. The more gore the better. Lately a lot of the so called ‘horror’ movies have just been pathetic. _However_ , I like pretty much anything. They’re in alphabetical order, so if you know the name of a movie you’re in the mood for…it’ll be easy to find if I have it.” The only reason you could afford so many was because you found deals. Yard sales, thrift stores, and clearance items. Your attention turned back to the pizza. Each plate had two, and you shut the box for the time being.

He grabbed a box and put the DVD in before shutting the lights off, and joining you on the couch. You kicked your feet up, set your plate on your lap, and got comfortable. “What did you choose?” You asked, curious.

John sat next to you. “American Pie. I haven’t seen it yet.” You licked your lips and chuckled. “What?” He asked, sipping his beer. 

Shaking your head, you decided to just let him see. “Just watch.” Did he not know about the pie? Or anything else from the movie? You had them all, but it usually wasn’t something you watched with anyone but close friends. Mainly because you didn’t know how people reacted to crude humor. He shrugged and kicked off his boots.

Half way through the movie, you found yourself laying on your side, your feet in your lap. It was comfortable, and he didn’t seem to mind. One of his hands rested on your calf. Hearing a knock on the door, you didn’t bother to move. “Come in!” You yelled. John laughed. “What? I’m comfortable.” You said, sticking your tongue out at him. Dean walked in, stopping in his tracks. He had a bag in his hand. “Sit. Watch. Eat. Drink. Be merry.” You pointed out the beer and pizza.

“ _What_ are you watching?”

“American Pie. John said he hadn’t seen it.” You half shrugged.

“Right. Anyways. I came back so we could talk. I bought Cheyenne some stuff.” He said, his voice somewhat small. John paused the movie.

“Hit the light switch.” You told Dean, sighing and sitting up. Stretching, you turned to John. “Chey has a DVD player in her room. You can finish it in there. As long as it comes back out before she’s home.”

“Don’t worry, it _will_. You kids have fun.” He said, getting up. You picked up the cap to your bottle and chucked it at him. “Fine. Sorry. Kid and…I don’t know, I’ll think of something.” He teased you.

You waited until John was out of the room to start talking to Dean. You gathered up the trash to work as you talked. “So, what did you want to talk about?” You tried to keep your voice casual.

“How about the fact that we have a _kid_ together?” Dean snapped. Once you tossed the trash away, you turned to him, arms crossed.

“Yes, _I know._ So, why are  you acting like you have a reason to be mad at me? Because I can’t think of a single one.” You snapped back, pushing past him to go back to the living room.

He followed, sitting on the couch. “I’m mad at the situation. I missed _seven years._ ”

“And who’s fault is that? It’s _not_ mine. _I tried_ , Dean. I tried like _hell_ to find you, Sam, _or_ John!” Sitting on the couch, a good space between you, you sighed. “After six months, I gave up. I moved on. I-I still loved you then, still held on to the hope that you’d call me, write me… _something_. You never did.” You shrugged. You could tell you were getting to him, but it was only the truth. “She knows who you are, what you look like, and that she has your eyes.”  

Dean looked at you, eyes lined with tears. “Really? What did you tell her? I mean, about me not being here.”

You shrugged. “I told her that the Winchesters were a busy family. That what your father did was very important, and that if you ever did meet her, you’d love her so much.” He nodded, taking it all in.

Neither of you spoke for a few minutes. It was Dean who finally broke it. “So, _um_ , I don’t know what she likes or anything.” He chuckled. “I got her a couple dolls, some clothes, and a couple gift cards.” He pointed to the bag.

“She likes shop class, dancing, art, clothes, shoes, sparkles, the color pink, cats, swimming, and this year she’s trying out for the class play.” Start with the easy stuff, you figured. “Like John said. _Full_ of life.”

He shifted so he was facing you. “What’s going on, anyway? You calling him ’ _John_ ’ like he’s an old friend, he’s staying here apparently, movie nights, defending him, him giving you flowers, and look at you…you look like you’re comfortable around him like it’s not weird to have him around.” His tone made it obvious that he wasn’t asking to be a dick. He was just curious.

You shifted as well, bending your knee so that your ankle was under your other knee. “Okay. _First_ , I’m an adult. He hasn’t objected to me calling him ‘John’ once. I’m not a teenager anymore. I’m not scared of him. He’s staying here because he doesn’t have furniture yet. We’re going into town tomorrow after I get off work so I can take him to the places with the best deals. _So what?_ We can’t enjoy a movie? I’ve had a really long day, and he decided to get us pizza. I’d defend anyone against the way you were acting. _And_ , if the roles were reversed, wouldn’t you want someone to defend you?” You shook your head. “I’m not talking about who I get flowers from again. And yes. I’m _extremely_ comfortable. I was in my work uniform from five forty five this morning until quarter after five this afternoon. I wanted to get out of that.” It didn’t seem wrong to you. Dean was just being weird. “I’m an adult. I can hang out with who I want, dress how I’d like, and make my own choices. I’ve been a mother for _seven years_ , longer then that if you include the nine months I carried her.”

Dean rested his elbows on his knees, and his head in his hands. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” He told you. “She’s been without her father for her whole life, and I can’t even stick around long.”

You looked at him, confused. “What do you mean? John said something about you passing through town, but I didn’t think it would be _short_ visits.”

“In my line of work, I never know. I could be gone for weeks, _months_ even. I could be able to stay a month, or I might have to leave after a couple days.” He couldn’t exactly mention the chances of dying, and her never knowing what happened.

Chewing on your lip, you took a deep breath. “I’m _sure_ your job is important, but so is **_Cheyenne_**. I won’t have her heart broken. I won’t have her wondering when’s the next time she’ll see you, or if you’re going to basically just pass through long enough to say 'hi’. _Don’t_ be a father only when it’s convenient. _Don’t_ be a part time father. I can understand being busy. I work _full time._ However, being her mother is a twenty-four seven, seven days a week, three hundred and sixty five days a year job, Dean.” You let that sink in. “I don’t get to _just_ have fun with her. I get the sick nights, the grumpy days, the days where she can’t sit still, days where she won’t eat anything you give her, all of them. I don’t get to come, have fun, and then go back to my own little world. It’s not like that. _Parenting isn’t like that_.” You knew that parents all over the country made co-parenting work. You highly doubted that they had to deal with such an odd work demand, though. “ _Think_ about what you want, Dean. If you just want to be there for the birthdays, maybe a holiday, to buy her presents, to have all the fun…then _don_ ’t. Don’t hurt her because it’s all fun and games to you. If you want the good _and_ the bad, and are willing to actually be there, fine. I won’t stand in your way. Just _decide what you want_ before I tell my little girl that her Daddy wants to meet her.”

You glanced at the clock. “You can crash on the couch, if you want. I have to be up for work, though.”

Dean was thinking over everything you said. “Thanks, but, uh, I have a motel room.” He said, standing up.

“I heard the ice machine doesn’t even work.” You chuckled, standing as well. The both of you walked to the door, an awkward silence hanging over the both of you. “So, I hope that you’ll think about what I said, Dean.”

He nodded, hand on the door handle. “I will. You’re looking good, Y/N. I’ll see you.” He smiled, walking out of the door. Once it was shut, you locked it, your head resting against the door.

You took a deep breath and moved through your apartment, shutting off any lights that had been left on. The tears were fighting their way out, tears you had fought back over the years, and you willed them to wait. Just until you could crawl into bed, and silence them with your pillow. You forced them back as you brushed your teeth, rushing into bed after.

As soon as your head hit the pillow, you lost it. Pulling the blanket up, you buried your head. Hearing the door open, you peeked over to it. “You’re right. You _can_ hear everything.” John said, walking in and shutting the door behind him. He had changed into a plain gray t-shirt and gray and plaid pajama bottoms. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” You sniffled.

You couldn’t see his face, but you could bet that he had a sad smile on his face. He crawled in behind you, and put his arms around you. “You didn’t. I couldn’t sleep. Then I heard you. I couldn’t let you be alone.” He whispered into your hair.

Turning in his arms, you enjoyed the warmth. One of his thumbs rubbed small circles on your lower back, helping to calm you down. Looking up, you gave him a small smile. “Thank you, John.” You had stopped crying, although your eyes felt all puffy. You leaned up slightly and kissed him gently for a moment. Burrowing back into his chest, you drifted asleep, leaving John to think things over.


End file.
